Where Angels Dare
by londonsocks
Summary: Having left Seamus and Dean behind in Ireland, Harry heads to the continent to mooch off friends and enjoy a summer surrounded by as few morons as possible. Sequel to Fools Rush In.


_**Disclaimer: I own nothing...well except for what I actually own, but I own nothing to do with the Harry Potter books.**_

**Chapter One**

Not having perfected his portkey landings yet, Harry landed what was in his opinion one of his most spectacularly odd, and incredibly painful positions if the amused looks on some of the surrounding wizards were to be believed.

After carefully untwisting his limbs from their pretzel like orientation he opened Monster's carrier to check if his little-buddies-of –doom were doing ok, a name he was considering patenting. An angry shrieking hoot was the first thing he heard on opening the carrier, shortly followed by an explosion of white feathers as Hedwig rocketed out of the carrier. Monster on the other hand sauntered out, stopped and licked his paw once and he casually glanced around the portkey terminal aka fancy field.

International portkey stations or 'Portports' as they were more commonly known, of course as with many wizarding things they were not so much commonly known as recently introduced to Harry a few days ago, but had suspicions that Dean and Seamus (assholes that they are) were lying about their name...but then _Hogwarts _of all things to call a school. Harry paused to ponder the extremely ridiculous ideas that some wizards came up with-like a game played by children on fairly flimsy brooms at high speeds hundreds of feet in the air in which trying to knock someone off a broom was an integral part of the game.

'Eh- it's all good' he mused, the teachers probably only allow it in hopes that some of their more annoying students could possibly die. Rather cunning when one thought about it, get rid of the nastiest little brats blame free, claiming things like "it's just a game", and "how were we supposed to know that being hit in the head with a large lead ball would cause possible irreversible brain damage? Oh no! It means little Timmy can't continue his schooling unless someone donates a brain? How sad!" with possibly a few remorseful looks thrown in for good measure. That had happened to some annoying Ravenclaw the year before Harry had gotten to Hogwarts, and he had heard rumours that Oliver Wood had been an annoying obsessive and focused little teacher's pet before his first quidditch match had led to him being knocked unconscious, transferring his obsession to the very object of his destruction. He bet that the teachers were regretting Hermione wasn't into quidditch. Harry was so proud of himself, and wondered if he could blackmail the teachers with his knowledge of their nefarious plot.

He was broken from his musing by a shriek-apparently a witch had come within the two metre bubble-space perimeter Hedwig had decided he should have (unless on crowded streets in which it had been reduced to a zealously enforced one metre bubble space). Harry had to lunge half a metre backwards to save the poor witch from getting her eyes gouged out but by now quite a few of the surrounding witches and wizards were eying Harry nervously, blowing what he hoped would have been an inconspicuous entrance into Bulgaria. Harry quickly checked his watch- he had arrived only 2 minutes ago. Damn it! Now he owed Seamus 2 galleons, the stupid twat had bet that it would take his overly vicious (but extremely attractive) familiars, said with a nervous glance at Hedwig's beak, less than three minutes to attack someone. Oh well- he'd just tell Monster that Seamus was the one who destroyed his Dudley voodoo doll and revenge would be his.

"Eh guard owls- what can you do about 'em!" he cheerfully announced to the crowd at large.

"Ah he's an English wizard" he heard muttered in different variations around him accompanied by understanding nods and the occasional wary look. Apparently everyone thought English wizards were lunatics, he had thought Seamus was joking about that, but then their evil tyrant had named himself Lord Voldemort and had no nose, he supposed he could understand their preconception.

He stood up and briskly brushed himself off before nodding an apology to the maimed witch and strode off across the field to one of the many arched stone exits that surrounded the portport. It was a far more attractive set up than airports he mused, and far more interesting to look at. Instead of feeling like a small overly burdened cow in a drafty barn- the only barrier to the outside world being the ring of arches around the field serving as either entrances or exits on the right were a breath of, well, fresh air. He felt shamed at his lame and entirely unintentional pun, unvoiced though it was.

He twined his way through the field following the flashing red arrow as it darted ahead of him around circles of white light which flashed faster and faster to indicate an incoming portkey until suddenly the person or family appeared, occasionally in a bundle of limbs on the ground, but none as impressively ridiculous as his entrance had been.

Walking though one of the many slightly shimmering archways an oddly accent less voice spoke to him as he was magically frozen;

"Are you a criminal"

After a moment's consideration, Harry decided to go with a "No". After all he never had been convicted despite the number of illegal activities he had taken part in.

Apparently no was the correct answer.

"Did you come to Bulgaria with the intentions of committing a crime?"

Again Harry had to pause before answering, he rarely intended to commit crimes, but accidents do happen, I mean who hasn't accidently messed with time?

"No."

"Do you have anything illegal in your possession?"

The anti-tracking charm he had for his wand was illegal in most of Europe, but as Bulgaria had ridiculously lenient laws- ie very few, Harry was good to go.

"No."

"Congratulations on being allowed entry into Bulgaria. Please enjoy you rakia and refrain from committing crimes during your stay. Thank you, move along." The accentless voice now sounded annoyingly cheerful as a shot glass of clear liquid appeared in his hand.

Hedwig made a dive for it but Harry knocked it back before she got close- Hedwig was a mean drunk. It burned all the way down, he only hoped it wouldn't put too much hair on his chest- just look at Hagrid, he hadn't had a date for as long as Harry had know him and was moving into the a-little-bit-sad category, unlike Snape's no-way-never-never-never-not-enough-potions-in-the-world category.

Hedwig gave him a filthy look but Harry just reminded her that alcohol dulled her feathers, and Monster nodded in agreement. It didn't, but after the one and only occasion, which had proven to be both horrifying and traumatising, that Hedwig had gotten drunk, Monster and Harry had come to an agreement. Never again. Unless as a last resort and even then only in situations as grim as a naked Voldemort.

Harry adjusted his stylish fedora, aka the hat that Monster, who was becoming a fashion aficionado had insisted he buy, but that he couldn't wear around Dean and Seamus without them laughing at him and possibly getting ripped to tiny little pieces by an offended Monster. He was such a thoughtful friend he thought to himself and wondered whether giving himself a pat on the back was a little too weird, and then worried that he had had to actually pause to consider that.

It seemed the utter insanity that plagued most of the population of the wizarding world had begun to infect him, luckily he was planning on spending a few days in muggle Bulgaria. Well actually he was planning to crash at Victor Krum's but Hedwig had refused to leave him or his possessions around Seamus and Dean after they had tried to steal his underwear to sell to Colin Creevy after they got back to Hogwarts.

He attached his pre-written letter to Hedwig's leg and knocked back the Eastern European Polyglot Potion, a marvellous invention let him understand and speak all Eastern European human languages. The potion was a god-send, but only lasted a year with a different dose or alternate language variation only being safe to take once every two years, unless you didn't mind your brain literally melting out of your ears- if that was the case it was just the potion for you.

It had advantages in that if you were listening and speaking a language a lot after taking the potion it was likely you would become fluent, but it took two hours- the last half an hour of which was spent excruciating agony before it activated. Hence the limited popularity of the potion.

"Wizards are such wimps" Harry observed to Monster who was nestled in his arms and nodded his agreement.

Hurrying through the muggle park surrounding the portport Harry emerged into the centre of Sofia and whipped out his guide book.

"If I were a fancy hotel that allows pets, where would I be?" he asked himself as he flicked through the book. He gave a very quiet cackle of triumph and hailed a taxi.

After politely asking the taxi driver to stop outside a bank, an enquiry he didn't manage to get across until Monster grabbed the man's throat in his teeth as they passed a bank causing him to slam on the brakes, Harry withdrew some muggle money- grateful he had remembered to open a muggle bank account during his wander around Ireland with Dean and Seamus.

Not surprisingly the taxi was not waiting for him outside the bank, but as Harry was about to hail a taxi he noticed a large and expensive looking hotel across the road from him. Deciding it would be good enough and that he was running a little short on time he motioned Monster to get into his carrier as he used his coat to conceal firstly the carrier as the krup leapt in, and then the fact that it shrank to the size of a matchbox. Spending time in a muggle hospital just because he spent half an hour screaming and possibly convulsing was not his idea of a good time, discharging himself from the hospital would probably be more painful than the potion itself.

Looking vaguely amused and very confident Harry swaggered across the street, while his fake magically made passport (technically not illegal in Bulgaria) said he was nineteen, Harry knew he looked nowhere near that. Except for his eyes, Grammy had told him he had very old eyes when he wasn't looking amused. Luckily his life was generally so ridiculous what with evil two headed teachers and the such like, that if he hadn't found it amusing he would have been gnawing on a crayon in a corner somewhere a long time ago.

Grammy had also said that such old eyes in such a young face could be a little creepy, something Harry was planning to capitalise on in the future as much as he could.

Striding boldly through the revolving door he sauntered over to the reception desk and flashed the receptionist a cheeky smile, greeting her in English before she could talk to him in Bulgarian. Speaking a language fluently an hour after you didn't know a word of it was something most muggles would find just the slightest bit odd, that or she would just think he was an asshole and she was far too hot for Harry to let that happen. Unless he pretended to be a bad boy...nah he only had one pair of leather trousers that Monster insisted he buy and that he never ever intended to wear, trousers he had only bought as he had been too worn out and shell shocked by almost four hours of intensive shopping- the equivalent of a week for a girl.

He managed to reach his room, and barely had he shut the curtains and cast a silencing charm before he collapsed on the floor screaming and writhing in agony as the Polyglot Potion kicked in.

See plush carpets, he knew this hotel had been a good idea.


End file.
